


Fire For a Heart

by breffski



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: M/M, Pastel!Phil, Rivalry, Younger Phil, alternative universe, badboy!dan, older dan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-07
Updated: 2015-08-07
Packaged: 2018-04-13 12:00:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4521132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breffski/pseuds/breffski
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Phil, life in his hometown seemed to be somewhat of a musical. The North and South side of town fought like cats and dogs, and even despite the many warnings he received from his older brother to stay away from the North… well, he didn’t listen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fire For a Heart

**Author's Note:**

> This was heavily requested by aquariusphil on tumblr!

Shamelessly stepping over the make-belief border separating the South side of town to the North side of town is becoming a dangerous habit of Phil’s. Ever since he was a tot it was practically common knowledge that North and South simply do not mix. Why, he could never tell you. It’s just the way his brother had taught him.

It wasn’t the kind of petty rivalry you’d see in TV shows or movies where the jocks from a public school threatened those who even dare set foot into their territory. This was real life and Phil just so happened to be caught up in the longest running feud between North and South, whether he liked it or not – which, for the record, he did not. In fact, he hadn’t even been aware that there _was_ an issue within his hometown up until his eighteenth birthday. As far as he was concerned everybody got along just fine.

He liked to think of his life as somewhat of a fairy tale, if you will. His older brother, Michael, played the stereotypical yet crucial character of his protector. He liked to know where Phil was disappearing to whenever he left his sight, taught him not to cross the roads without looking and, under no circumstances, was he to talk to strangers. Even now, at eighteen, he still followed every rule he’d been taught.

Except for one. The number one rule Michael had given him, drilled into him for as long as he could remember, was to remain within the South side of town. He was not, for any reason whatsoever (“yes, Phil, even if you accidentally lose your Frisbee on that side,”) allowed to set foot past Starbucks on the corner of Main St. And up until last week he hadn’t even questioned it. He blindly followed everything Michael told him because, well, he was his idol. Not everybody had an older brother who looked out for them no matter what.

And, yeah, sometimes he felt a little bit guilty that he went behind his back and walked a few blocks into the North for a simple lunch, but who could blame him? Trip Advisor had practically peer pressured him into trying out the fish and chip shop they had over there and once he’d plucked up the courage to actually sneak over and try their famous cod and chips, he was hooked.

Now, normally he’d time his visit between half past twelve and half past one. The average lunch break would most likely be over at that time and the place would be pretty much dead, leaving him enough time to quietly and stealthily buy his lunch and leave without ever having to run into anybody he shouldn’t. Today, however, he’d gotten lost in a book. He figured he’d have more than enough time to read a couple chapters before he had to leave to avoid conflict, but with summer and no responsibilities for three months, time was basically non-existent right now.

If it wasn’t for the looming shadow blocking off his enjoyment of the minimal amount of sun England actually had, Phil probably wouldn’t have even noticed he wasn’t alone anymore. Or even cared, for that matter. It wasn’t often that he got so engrossed in a book that he forgot where he was and what time it was. But, remembering which side of town he was _actually_ on had his attention completely torn from his fantasy world within milliseconds. This could only end badly.

Before his head had even lifted high enough to face whoever was staring him down, a surprisingly firm hand curled around the scruff of his neck to yank him out of his chair. He yelped more in surprise than pain, and if it wasn’t for the hyperawareness that he was probably about to die, he’d definitely have complained dramatically about whiplash.

His apology was rudely cut off with a vicious snarl and two hands fisted into the front of his shirt. He flailed in search for some sort of purchase, backhanding his cup of coffee onto the grubby tiled floor. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Hello to you too. Pleasant language. I hope you don’t kiss your mother with that mouth,” Phil snipped back easily. Having an older brother definitely had its perks – thinking of witty, sarcastic comebacks was one of them. Besides, this was Dan Howell. He was pretty much the Michael Lester of the North side of town. Everybody knew who he was; the ‘Top Bad Lad’ who nobody dared to cross.

Well. Nobody except Phil, anyway. He’d seen his brother scrap with this guy a few times and he knew that if it ever came to it, if he walked back home with any mark on his flawless skin, Michael would kill him in an instant. And Dan must know that, too. He’d heard about the idiots who squared up to him and tried to take his place (because real life in this town seemed to be a West End production starring two gangs fighting for the top). Let’s just say they would never consider even walking on the same side of the road after a stand-off with him.

And yet here Dan was, in all his tattered-leather glory (honestly, who wore a torn leather jacket over leather jeans, too?), a frustrated vein protruding against his left temple as he stared the little brother of his rival down without so much as a threat to harm him. The poor guy must be terrified of Michael.

“As lovely as this has been, I would really like to finish my lunch and get back to my book. It’s really very good, actually, I would recommend it if you ever take a break from brooding on the regular. I’d imagine it can get exhausting,” Phil babbled on. He was a rambler. It was a blessing and a curse, really. It had gotten him out of all sorts of trouble when his parents or teachers got bored of listening to him and let him off. But, like now, it probably wasn’t the best idea.

“Shut the fuck up!” Dan was red in the face now and Phil was actually mildly concerned that he was about to pop a vein. Wow, he must really be holding back. “I don’t know what makes you think you’re welcome over here and I don’t give a fuck about your lunch. Get the fuck out and don’t even _look_ at this side of town again. Capiche?”

“Sure thing,” he said. Phil knew for a fact that he’d be back here tomorrow with another five pound note for his next round of lunch. There wasn’t a single doubt in his mind about that, but what Dan didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. Going by the look on his face, though, he knew exactly what Phil’s intentions were but he made no further effort to prevent it.

He stumbled backwards once Dan shoved him away, unnecessarily smacking his book over the edge of the table and directly onto the coffee. Perfect. There was absolutely no way he’d be able to read that now. Instead of giving Dan the satisfaction of a reaction, he just watched the shit eating smirk dimple the idiot’s cheeks. Dimples? Really? And this guy was supposed to be intimidating.

* * *

The next few weeks passed like clockwork for Phil. Every day he’d sneak up into the North side of town for lunch, get half way through his meal, only to be kicked right back into the South before he could finish his chips. He was beginning to get sort of irked, it was a waste of his money and he never managed to have a full meal for lunch anymore.

He was confident that today he’d get through a full meal, whether Dan liked it or not. Well, who was he kidding? Of course he wouldn’t like it. The thought only satisfied Phil more. He’d force him to watch him eat if he had to.

He went through his regular schedule, said goodbye to his parents and Michael at twelve, took the half an hour walk to the chip shop just inside the North side of town, ordered the usual, then sat down with an open book (the third copy so far. Dan seemed to enjoy ruining them for him). As always, the bell to the front door jingled at around 1:45pm. Dan had picked up on Phil’s routine and he’d made it a mission of his own to put a stop to it. No matter how relentless the boy was.

Today, however, he didn’t immediately snark at him or unnecessarily slam his fist down on the table to grab his attention. Instead, the chair across from him squeaked against the tiled floor and a separate plate was set down in front of him. For a long moment Phil debated on just ignoring it. It was probably Dan’s idea of trying to get him to leave; intruding on his personal space and making it awkward to eat in front of him.

In the end, though, curiosity got the best of him and when he lifted his gaze to curiously eye the older lad, he was – well, more than a _little_ bit shocked, put it that way. Dan wasn’t glaring at him – wasn’t even _looking_ at him. His attention was instead fixed on an all too familiar book that had been taken away from Phil on his last visit to the shop.

The silence stretched on for a long while and just as Phil was starting to get uncomfortable, Dan finally spoke up. His voice wasn’t as sharp as it usually was. It didn’t seem as though he planned to ‘kick his ass’ as he’d threatened time and time again. It was genuine.

“I kept this the last time you left. You’ve literally bought four different copies after I ruined them all and I was curious,” he said slowly, his voice getting quieter and quieter with each word as though he was immediately regretting the confession as it left his mouth.

Phil didn’t respond immediately. He was still in shock that Dan hadn’t already hauled him out of his seat and into the street like he normally does, but once he’d finally caught up with what was going on he cleared his throat and gave a nonchalant shrug, playing it off as casual. “It’s my favourite book,” he said simply.

“I can see why,” was all Dan said, his eyes never moving from the pages as he absently flicked through each one. The remainder of the time Phil spent eating was in mutual silence, occasionally interrupted by the bell jingling to signify a new customer. They parted ways with a simply nod of the head and Phil spent the next three days brooding over what could possibly have changed Dan’s demeanour.

* * *

 

On Saturday Phil arrived at the shop to a brand new hardback copy of his book laid out on his usual table. Dan never showed.

* * *

 

On Monday, there was a different book there. By the same author, but one he hadn’t read before. When he climbed into bed that night with a steaming mug of hot chocolate to read it, a note fluttered out from between the pages and landed on his chest.

> _Saw this and thought of you. Enjoy._
> 
> _-D_

* * *

 

On Friday, Phil left a book behind with a note of his own tucked into the library sleeve. He was still unemployed. The little money he _did_ have wasn’t going to be wasted on a book he wasn’t going to keep.

> _Thanks._
> 
> _The front cover reminded me of you. Enjoy._
> 
> _-P_

* * *

 

On Saturday, Phil arrived early at the shop and found Dan scribbling furiously on a piece of paper, his back hunched over and his phone clutched in his free hand.

“If you were planning on leaving me your number, you’d have been disappointed with the lack of response. I broke my phone last week when you chucked me out into a puddle,” Phil piped up from behind Dan, almost getting an elbow to the jaw when the taller lad jerked up in surprise.

“Right,” was the hasty response he received. Dan immediately screwed up the piece of paper in his hand and cleared his throat, turning back towards the book he’d brought with him that day.

There were a few beats where neither of them said anything, then Dan finally just pushed the screwed up paper into Phil’s hand anyway and left without another word.

> _I was going to write a poem but I suck. So here’s a Shakespeare anthology instead. I highlighted my favourite. It’s about blue eyes and dark hair._
> 
> _And here’s my number. Just in case._
> 
> _-D_

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure if I want to write a sequel / second chapter to this. Let me know if you'd read it!


End file.
